Training the Not-Hot Horse: Again

Courage challenged me every day and left me with a huge amount of baggage, but one thing I credit to him is the leaps and bounds forward I made as a thinking horseman. I don't mean technical riding skills and the "looking pretty" polish that wins the show ring, but the day-to-day intelligence, flexibility, and introspection that makes a horseman.

Now I have a horse that is decidedly not-Courage. I can't get over how relatively easy she is to work with, but at the same time, the skills that Courage brought me are the skills that are going to shape Zoë. While she is a horse that would let me "get away with" more, I think she is going to be that much better of a horse because I can be more educated in how I approach her.

definitely not courage

For example. Zoëbird is a baby. She's nearly doubled in size in the last few months. She's still growing. And yeah, sometimes she's not real sure where all her legs are going. In the present, I want to help develop her body awareness and teach her to carry her front end. In the future, I would like her to jump small courses safely.

such a cute lil buffalo

In pursuit of that, we do cavaletti from time to time. Because Zoëbird is her own sort of lady and not mindlessly hot, I've had to adapt how I work with her. She's very intelligent and doesn't require many repetitions to figure something out, which is good, because her idea of a good time is not just running for an hour.

However. Sometimes you introduce multiple cavaletti in a row and you get something that looks like this:

I R TRIPPIN MUM
(video here if interested)

We worked on it a couple different ways and things just weren't improving consistently. I rewarded good tries with immediate breaks. Kept her trotting if things weren't right. Kept things calm and simple.

It just wasn't her day.

But you know what? The next day, I set cavaletti again (snow was sliding off the roof and I didn't want to ride. sue me). (And yeah, ZS ZB gives the amount of shits you would expect. It's my brain that's the problem.)

The little lady had thought things through and her very first pass, she slowed her cadence, lifted her shoulders, and freakin' cavaletti'ed like a champion.

VERRY CAREFUL TROTTIN

This weekend, I got my first lesson on Zoë since she started training. I'm riding consistently on my own and I verbally check in with the trainer after pretty much every ride, but I'm not able to be present for them and I haven't have the time for a lesson until now. My rides look like what you'd expect from an ammy rider on a sweet but clueless baby mare (video here if you're super interested).

WUT R LESSON MUM

It was so valuable to me to have my trainer stand there and put the disjointed thoughts I've had about our rides into coherent sentences that make sense and then give me strategies to address our weaknesses. For example, I've noticed that Zoë sort of goes NEEEROOOOOOOOM down the long side with mirrors, but when we come back on the other side, she piddles around and I can barely keep her going. I've been trying to kick her forward in the slow moments and slow my posting when we're zooming with ah "mixed results".

not related but stinking adorable

Trainer said right off the bat: "Your horse doesn't have good natural rhythm so you need to post definitively and SET THE RHYTHM FOR HER."

Oh.

Yeah that's a good idea.

It super worked too. Huh. Trainers are magic.

Because see. Courage was a horse with a very light touch--he'd baaaaaarely take a contact and overreact to every tiny thing. Zoë is intelligent and sensitive and lovely (and I adore her), but learning to ride her is a whole new world. On her, I can pick up the reins and have a little contact. I can post definitively. I can actually think about what my body is doing and work on myself (even now!) because her default is to slow down and take a break.

so lovely

And again--I am not the anti-Courage committee. That horse taught me a lot of things, but riding him was and had to be very intuitive and instinctual because there was not time to think in the saddle.

I understand intellectually that I need to ride with my fingers closed, thumbs up, and elbows mobile. I can explain biologically that there is a tendon running through my arm that is locked when my hands are flat and mobile when my thumbs are up. I KNOW that open fingers just mean useless reins bouncing on the horse's mouth and closed fingers with mobile elbows is the route to steady, soft contact.

I know those things.

MUM R NOT SUPER GUD AT LERNIN

But when trotting my nice little mare (who doesn't even go on the bit yet), trainer got us to a place with good balance for a few strides and in those strides, I actually felt the reason why all those things mattered. It's hard to explain. I'm not saying we became dressage pros or magically better, but just her limited acceptance of the contact was still light years better than I've been on in a while and it was this sort of blinding flash of like OH I GET IT NOW.

And then it was gone, because that's the nature of things right now, but like.

Just that one moment was enough to excite me.

Zoë is going to keep teaching me about how to learn, but the places she will take me?

Cannot. Wait.

What a stellar lady.

very tired. can wait.

I Did A Thing & Had Some Thoughts

When I made a list of goals for this year, I tried to choose things that would challenge me, but still be achievable. I set as many personal goals as horse goals, because I have a long history of getting nowhere with horses.

you have no idea how hard i had to twist her arm to get this photo
her: it's bad luck to wear the shirt before the race!
me: but we're not gross and sweaty yet JUST PUT IT ON

Then I made the mistake of mentioning to Roxie’s mom that one of my goals was to run a half marathon.

And she’s like “COOL SIGN UP FOR THIS ONE IM DOING ITLL BE FUN”.

So I signed up. Months ago. I told myself I would train, but my running shoes were dead and the one time I tried to run, I ended up limping for a week afterwards, courtesy of said shoes.

Maybe that should have been a sign. Maybe not.

even Zoe thinks it's not a great plan

Regardless, three days before the race, I finally made it to the running store and bought shoes (on sale). The sales’ lady’s face made a pretty priceless expression when I told her I was “getting started” and that my goal race was a half marathon that weekend. But I digress.

So I went. And I did it. And I’m trying to un-jumble my thoughts about it, because apparently the post-race stupids are a real thing.

i also wore a donut like a tutu

1) Emotional awareness. Pre-race, I had about an hour and a half to kill by myself before my distance started. Now remember. This is a fun run. I did not train for it. I had no expectations of “doing well” and was simply out there to meet a goal I’d set for myself. No matter what I did, it was going to be a Personal Best, because I have simply never done this distance before in any capacity.

I spent the entire hour and a half kind of agitated and nervous. “Washing out”, we’d call it in a racehorse. I’d like to think that because I was aware of it, I was more able to make good choices and control it, but the truth was that I was really nervous.

And if I’m that nervous to do something like that on my own, how exactly am I translating that to my horse under saddle?

one of them trained. one of them is a blerch.

2) Conditioning matters. Obviously, I did not train by any understanding of the word. Conditioning and strength building are something I talk about in terms of horse development all the time, but actually feeling the effects myself put it in perspective I think.

I’ve been coasting along this year and not addressing rider fitness. That’s not ok.

this man was having a fabulous time

3) Individual goals are diverse and important--I get annoyed by all the online bashing of “she’s not a real horseperson because we have different end goals with our horses” stuff that goes around. It was real funny to watch that play out over 13.1 miles. Some people walked. Some people sprinted. Some people brought friends. Some people were alone.

THEY ALL FINISHED.

Huh.

all sweaty and grossified

4) Finishing together is awesome. In an event I could not possibly have planned, Roxie’s mom (who ran the full marathon, which started before the half) caught me about a half mile before the finish and then we crossed the finish line together.

We were going stupidly fast because she is a crazy person and I nearly threw up on her and/or the nice man handing out medals, but it was so much more fun to finish with a friend. And know that no matter what, I gave it my best on that day. It wasn't about who went farther or who was better--it was about accomplishing something together.

next let's accomplish buying custom boots together

As an equestrian, I find it very easy and even therapeutic to throw myself into the “horse” side of the equation every day, be that tack, training, planning, or what have you. All that is important, but it doesn’t address the human side, which is a very real problem.

For me, this means that I want to change the way I address sport in my own life--I want to be stronger and fitter and I want to figure out the whole race day mental game aspect. When it’s Zoe and I stepping into the show ring, I want to be a solid partner for her, not just blindly hoping she can carry my lazy ass through.

champion of finishing real slow

Baby Steps

I don't resent the time I invested in Courage. I learned so much from him that I can cross-apply to Zoë. SB-before-Courage would have said "you WILL stand in the wash rack", picked a fight, and made an issue out of a non-issue.

SB-after-Courage says "eh, we'll get there. I'm in no hurry."

Because as much as Zoëbird is a 180 from Courage in every possible way, she's also a living being. She's not a machine that mindlessly conforms.

plus she's wicked cute

So yeah, I could pick a fight with her about how the wash rack is NOT SCARY and SHE WILL MIND and DAMMIT YOU WILL GET THE HOSE AGAIN.

But I don't.

A post shared by Aimee Towell (@sprinklerbandits) on Jul 21, 2017 at 8:08am PDT

Because Zoë is a kind, sweet, smart creature and if I just take my time and show her that the hose is fun and the wash rack is safe, and hey! We eat cookies when we stand here! Pretty soon, the wash rack is going to be a non-issue and I will have built her trust in me instead of tearing it down.

I learned that attitude from Courage and it's infiltrated every part of my thinking about training horses. That's why even though I know Zoëbird has some quality training behind her, we started slow. I added one or two things at a time. I treated each item (saddle pads, boots, etc) like she'd never seen it before and let her understand each piece at her own speed.

And conversely, she's been pretty patient with me. We had our first session with my trainer yesterday. My trainer ground drove her (hint: they did great) and then she had me do it. Zoë is actually trained to drive and has pulled a cart even. SB, on the other hand, has never driven anything without wheels (hint: skill really doesn't cross apply).

We went slow and I made a lot of mistakes, but Zoë was Zoë and it was a positive experience for everyone.

I'm having so much fun with Ms. Zoëbird. She is absolutely the kind of horse I need right now.

And because of Courage, I can be the kind of person she needs too.

PS: last night, we stood in the wash rack eating cookies and I sprayed off her front legs with the lead line completely slack.

The Next Phase

"In riding as in life" is one of my favorite sayings, because I see the world through horse-shaped glasses and it's strangely accurate.

I used to think I was a good rider. Then I started riding with good riders and realized that no, I really wasn't all that good. But while it was tempting to label myself a bad rider and get down on my abilities, I realized that bad riders aren't the people who are less skilled--they're the ones who won't learn.

So I frantically learned and soaked up knowledge from every angle. If there's a clinic, I'm there auditing. If there's a lesson, I want to watch it. If there's a book, I'm reading it. I've even watched a surprising amount of videos for someone who hates video on principle. Theory. Practice. Application.

And once I started trending towards "competent at the lower levels", I switched horses.

And when I tried to apply all the excellent theories and and techniques I knew that were so ideal and correct, it backfired. Hard.

Because theory is great, but as all the great trainers know, each individual is important.

And no matter how perfect your theory is and how bad you want something and how hard you train for it, if the individual doesn't want it too, it's not going to happen.

So at the time, I tried everything I could think of to make it happen.

And it didn't.

The harder I tried, the worse it got.

I didn't want to admit it. I wanted to power through. If I just did more, tried harder, studied better, got a different teacher, had better facilities, bought different tack, tried a new discipline, surely then I could make it. I could achieve my way into success.

Right?

No.

What I did was piss off my individual horse. A lot.

And he's not really the forgiving sort.

When we landed with my current trainer, we'd take an hour long lesson in which we did like... 10 walk/trot transitions. That was it. Walk and praise him. Give him a pet. Big release. Try again next week or next month or whatever. No rush. Take a deep breath. It's fine.

Of course, given my hellbent plan to achieve and learn and whatever, I couldn't take it. I'd work my ass off between lessons. Study. Push. Try. Bad rides meant bad days and maybe not tears, but definitely feelings of failure and distress, which is a lot of pressure to put on a horse you're already being a jerk to and who again, isn't the most forgiving horse.

And sure, we can talk about whether he's the right horse. The answer is probably not. He's difficult. He's temperamental. He doesn't take jokes.

But he's a fantastic life horse, even if he's never the show phenom I dreamed of.

He's like me. Slow to trust. Quick to react. Good at holding grudges. Sensitive, flamboyant, loyal.

And when my life shit and my accident shit and my horse shit kind of all overflowed on each other, a lot of bad things happened. (Example: spending Christmas on drugs on my couch. Massively shitty.)

But good things have happened too--because I couldn't physically do anything, I didn't. Because I haven't been able to function normally in months, now I can't.

And I don't think the ninja goddess knows it, but my physical therapy has been a lot of emotional therapy too. I always ask her why we do the exercises we do and have the set backs we have. She's very good at explaining. She tells me that recovery is not a linear process. That the most important thing I can do is just a little, tiny exercise, but it will make a huge difference if I'm patient and let it.

That sometimes the harder we try, the worse things get.

That some things just take time.

That sometimes they get worse before they get better.

That I can't overachieve myself out of this corner.

That I need to be patient, but determined.

That goals are good, but flexibility is better.

That just because I can make something happen, doesn't mean I should.

And all those things maybe seem simple and trite. They're nice catch phrases that I could probably spit out this whole time, but it's not about being able to mouth the words. It's about having a bad pain day and actually being okay with sitting on the couch taking drugs instead of achieving. It's about letting go of my need for perfection and validation and admitting that shit happens and it's not okay, but the world keeps on spinning.

It creates this beautiful perspective in which a bad ride is actually a good day, because I felt good enough to try. And if Courage is having a Courage day, I don't take it personally. We'll just try again tomorrow. Or next week. Or whenever.

The change wasn't overnight and yeah, sometimes it was way worse and I wouldn't say it's 100% better now, but instead of being a jerk to my horse and trying to drill him into achieving, things are trending upwards. He's an individual. I'm an individual.

And now, whether or not I used to be a good rider, I'm really not currently. I can't just power through, because I don't have the strength or the reflexes I used to.

In my weakness, I'm learning to listen.

And in riding as in life, that's the first step.

In Defense of Gadgets (or "Yes, Those Were Draw Reins You Saw")

I hate gadgets the way a rich, white Trump supporter hates welfare recipients--you know, theoretically but with very little personal experience to apply because I don't use them or hang out with people who do.

And now I have Courage. He's a thinking rider's horse. The "normal" stuff doesn't work for him, but walking the road less traveled can have spectacular results. I would never, ever intentionally take two months off riding. I would never have purchased a weird-ass lunging contraption (or two!). I would never, ever think I'd be riding my horse in draw reins.

And here I am.

yup there they are

In draw reins.

I've skirted around this issue, taken them off for pictures, and intentionally not said anything, because I'm 100% pro-horsemanship and 110% anti-shortcut, anti-gadget, and anti-training-your-horse-by-polling-ottb-connect-because-you're-too-stupid/vain/shortsighted-to-work-with-a-trainer.

But.

Draw reins have been with us for a very long time and while abominable excuses for horsemanship have too, those fads tend to come and go. Anyone used a bearing rein recently? No? Didn't think so. Those kinda went out in the Black Beauty era. I stand corrected. Apparently they're still a thing. Carry on.

Honestly, even talking about draw reins makes me throw up in my mouth a little bit--the potential for misuse or abuse is huge. The idea that someone could read this post and think "wow, she mocked my strategy of polling OTTB Connect for training ideas but then said something about draw reins so I'll get some" and would then run out and buy a set to throw on their woefully under-educated horse makes me physically ill.

So don't do that. I will publicly and privately eviscerate you. Consider that fair warning.

But I'm not dealing with your under-trained horse and under-educated riding. I'm dealing with my horse who has years of solid, thoughtful, educated training under his belt and yet still struggles with certain mechanics of how his body works. I'm working under the auspices of a professional trainer, who to my knowledge does not even own a set of draws and whom I have never seen use a gadget of any kind on any horse.

I'm talking about a long standing issue that I've addressed in every way under the sun with multiple professional trainers and none of them could touch it. I've spent years building Courage's trust and education to this point. I've spent months lunging him under saddle in what is basically fixed draw reins.

And in those months, I have seen Courage go from this:

one kind of air time

To this:

a much better kind of air time

I'm not talking about a quick fix here. Not at all. Courage was scoring around the 70s at training level at recognized shows. He hacks out. He toodles. He jumps (a little) and he's been in professional training for the better part of a year now. He was just not getting it in terms how how to use his body to push and go forward, especially in trot/canter transitions and especially as we asked him to move into first/second level work. We did lessons and pro rides and body work and talked to vets and covered all our bases there.

And then I quit riding and added the vienna reins lunging. It took months. Not a joke. Not an an exaggeration. I don't mean months of ripping around in mindless circles, either. Months of thoughtful, horse-first training in which I found different ways to present the information and explain to Courage what I wanted without ever getting angry and always being quick to reward the slightest try on his part.

Months.

late nights and early mornings

And now, I have a horse who probably 75% of the time on the lunge line, can give me a correct, balanced trot/canter transition in a calm manner. That's HUGE for us.

But now it's time to start back under saddle. I'm physically compromised and Courage is learning to transfer the information he's gleaned, but he's not confirmed and he can't be until he also understands with a rider.

I need the same effect that I get from the Vienna Reins, but I need it in a format that's safe to ride in. I need something I can release, but something that continues to explain to Courage that the balance he found on the lunge line is a balance he can use under saddle.

Draw reins it is.

BUT.

They are a gadget. They are so easy to abuse. You can wreck a horse permanently SO FAST. Ever seen a panicked runaway with it's nose on it's chest and that horrible look of pain and fear in it's eyes? Even if you have a tolerant saint of a horse, you can create so much distress, as Lauren pointed out. You can make that. You don't want to. It's flat out cruel.

Draw reins are not something I pick up lightly and they are something that will go away as soon as is reasonably practicable. I've introduced them very slowly. Lots of walking and toodling and just letting him feel them without having them do anything.

Now we've added in trotting and he's going well. So well. Not gonna lie, he feels like a whole new horse. He's learning to give me the base of his neck, which is what I need to go forward from here.

Even with all the training Courage has had and the education we both have, using draw reins pretty well freaks me out. I don't need him hyperflexed. I don't want him behind the bit or dumped on his forehand or any number of other Very Bad Things that come from a device that give me this massive amount of leverage over a flighty prey animal.

my first trot post-accident. 

These are a tool to explain to him that he can use his body a certain way and nothing more. They only work because he already understands contact and rhythm and has the basics installed to give him a frame of reference for what I want. Just like with the lunging, they have to be presented in a calm, horse-friendly manner and the only way he learns is if every single step makes sense to him. No rushing. No pushing. Once he understands what I'm looking for, the tool will go away and I don't anticipate bringing it back out.

And that's where it's at.

Theoretically, I hate gadgets. In practice, I'm using one and I'm very pleased with the results. That doesn't mean I recommend them and frankly, if you think they'll work for you, I think you're an idiot who needs a trainer and dear god please don't ruin your horse. Please.